My Sunday Feeling

By the time you read this, the Fall season will be over at Miracle League. It has been a fun 8 weeks and I will miss those little guys. But I am ready for a break and there are some other projects that I need to tend to before the holidays. All in all, this really has been an amazing experience. When I first volunteered to coach out there, I couldn't talk to anybody connected with the program who didn't go on and on about what an incredible experience it would be to spend time with these kids. My response, being me, was to think, " You don't have to keep blowing smoke up my ass. I told you I'd do it."

Turns out they were telling the honest-to-God truth. Being with these kids every Saturday has easily been the highlight of my week the past 8 weeks. And the Spring was no different.


It is easy to romanticize disabled kids. Indeed, the "sick child" character is a staple of literature. Dickens was a particular master of that grim genre giving us both Tiny Tim and Little Nell. He at least let Tiny Tim live. Little Nell was not so lucky and Oscar Wilde managed to find Dickens's portrayal of her demise as exceedingly hilarious. Which is one of the reasons I love Oscar Wilde.

I don't romanticize the kids at Miracle League. And one of the beauties of the system-or what passes for a system-is that the Miracle League environment is such that they can be kids first and disabled kids second. Willy talks serious trash to the pitcher every time he gets up. Rebekah shamelessly flirts with the college boys that come out to help. Jerrod calls his shot whenever he comes to the plate. Chloe routinely outruns the "buddies" that are assigned to her. Just to prove she can do it. Nope, we are having too much fun out there to get too sentimental about it all. But every now and again something happens with these kids that hits you where you live. One of those things happened a week ago.

The girl on the left is Sarah Beth. Her mother died last week after a brief but tragic illness. Sarah Beth was understandably distraught. All kids depend on their parents. A special needs kid does so exponentially. It was during a discussion with her father about the arrangements for the funeral that Sarah Beth revealed that she had become friends at school with a girl named Josie. Sarah Beth wanted Josie around during this time because, as she told her dad, Josie was the first friend she ever had.

Sarah Beth's father was wise and loving in equal measure. The family is from South Carolina. They decided that the serious stuff would be done there. But here in Little Rock, her father chose to have a visitation that would be as non-scary and positive as possible under the circumstances. And so, it was held in the Fellowship Hall of their church. There was no coffin. There were no flowers. Just punch and cookies for the guests who included the kids from Sarah Beth's school.

Josie and her folks were there. Although she was in her wheelchair at the visitation, she can slowly walk with the assistance of her walker. Josie also plays in the Miracle League. Josie's dad said that the goal for the next game was for Josie to round the bases with the walker instead of the wheelchair.


Sarah Beth showed up the next day as well. Her father told me the night before that he thought coming out to play ball was the best thing for Sarah Beth. Sarah Beth is a physically gifted kid. She can run like the wind and has almost gone yard on us during a couple at-bats. She had already hit Josie was at bat. Josie hit the ball. And as she and the "buddy" assigned to her slowly made their way to first Sarah Beth went down the baseline too, cheering Josie on every step of the way.

I do not romanticize these kids. But they do tend to be precociously empathetic in a way that their more able-bodied counterparts sometimes are not. But this display was extraordinary even by the usual standards of the Miracle League. Think about it: Here was a girl who had just lost her mother, cheering on her friend-the first friend of her life- as she struggled to make her way toward first on two legs. Josie did it 2 more times, with good old Sarah Beth cheering her every step of the way.

No, I do not romanticize. I will come back next Spring. I will come back mainly because I will miss my kids something something awful. I will come back so I can be assured of a weekly reality check these guys impart that, quite frankly, I don't get from practicing law. Or from being me. And I will come back to see an occasional glimpse of perfect kindness. OK. So maybe I romanticize a little.

Enough of that. By now you probably have guessed that Josie is the kid on the right. Oh. I forgot to tell you. Josie can't talk. But that's OK with Sarah Beth.

Because we all know that there are those times when the best kind of friend is somebody who just listens.